


You Left Your Mark on Me

by skyegazer8



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Additional Characters to be added, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Because I want everyone to be happy, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Female Character of Color, Bisexual Steve Rogers, But Not Much, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, Except Civil War, F/M, I'm rewriting it, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, a bit of homophobia, and poly phobia, eventual polyamorous relationship, mostly canon compliant, soul marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2018-08-17 08:03:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8136542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyegazer8/pseuds/skyegazer8
Summary: The title is right on the nose...
Violeta Valdez has a bit of a problem. She has TWO soul marks. So when she finds out that one of her soul mates is none other than Captain America, it turns into an absolute shit-fest. Then she realizes her other soul mate is Bucky Barnes. Is this her special brand of hell or her own slice of heaven?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Since Violeta is a Spanish name its pronounced Vee-o-leta, and Vi is pronounced Vee  
> And Mayre is said like Marie.  
> Also, I DO NOT work for Buzzfeed, nor do I know anyone who works there.

It was the summer of 2011, before her senior year, that it showed up. She was in the middle of marching band practice, when she felt a slight burn on her inner forearm. It was sweltering out; it always is in Texas in August. The sun had yet to reach its zenith, but Violeta thought that maybe her sunscreen was wearing thin, which wasn’t odd considering how much she had sweat. When the band director called for a water break, she greedily gulped down her drink from her perspiring bottle, and dug around for her sunblock in her bag. Lazily, she reapplied the lotion as she chatted with her friend, Mayre. As she turned over her right arm to apply right where she first felt the burn, her friend Mayre gasped.

“What?” Violeta looked at her, wondering why in the hell Mayre was looking at her like she had grown an extra head. Or arm, since she was staring at it.

“Vi, look!” She pointed excitedly to Violeta’s arm.

She looked down, and her heart stopped.

The breath flew out of her chest, as she gazed down upon the image that had appeared there. The clean lines and swooping curves of it clearly outlined the most famous skyline in the world: New York City. It was absolutely gorgeous and it was her soul mark.

Entranced, she traced a fingertip over it, memorizing its every detail, relief flowing through her.

She was going to be 18 in a couple of months, and had been worrying that maybe she didn’t have a soul mate.

Soul marks usually showed up when someone turned sixteen, although it wasn’t uncommon for someone as young as fourteen to get theirs. But it was practically unheard of to receive one after one’s eighteenth birthday, and with Violeta’s fastly approaching, a knot of anxiousness took permanent residence in the pit of her stomach.

The knot was gone now, as she stared in awe at her arm.

Elation rose inside of her as her mind turned to imaging just who her one and only was.

If only she had known the irony then

***

Violeta had toyed around with the idea of attending college in New York, specifically NYU. And while she had gotten accepted there, the fact of the matter was she couldn’t afford it. So with a bit of a heavy heart, she stayed in Texas to go to college. Not that the University of Texas at Austin was a bad school to attend.

But Violeta continued fantasying about New York. She had always wanted to visit there anyways, but now she had a more of a purpose than simple tourism. Her and Mayre, who had gone to college in San Antonio, had talked extensively about going one day, but they remained where they were, trapped by their financial situations.

When the alien attack happened, Violeta watched in horror as she hoped, prayed, begged, that her soul mate was safe and alive. All of the Avengers had come out of the battle unscathed, but had her soul mate? Indeed, they had, and Violeta wept with joy and relief when a picture of some cube with the cosmos swirling around it appeared on her arm.

So, Violeta continued to watch wistfully as her soul mate, whomever they were, continued to draw beautiful portraits of New York City.

However, a year later dreams of New York fell away as it became clear that her soul mate had relocated to Washington D.C. when drawings of that city took over her arm. They clearly frequented the reflecting pool by the Washington monument and Lincoln memorial, and they way they drew it, Violeta could see why.

Whomever her soul mate was they were really fucking talented, because her arm was never without some absolutely stunning image, and many people expressed their envy over her having a soul mate with such unique and extraordinary skill. Violeta was happy about that too. If she could ever make her way to D.C., finding her soul mate probably wouldn’t prove to be that much of a challenge.

Disaster struck again, this time in the form of an old Nazi organization everyone thought was extinct trying to take over the world again. As Hydra’s helicarriers lay wrecked in the Potomac, Violeta came completely unraveled once more with overwhelming worry for her soul mate. Why was it that her soul mate had to be in the middle of the chaos every time?

For a week, her dread increased as nothing showed up on her arm. It was when Violeta was going through the SHIELD files on the internet, spotting her name on Hydra’s kill list, that she felt the tickle on her arm again.

She choked out a wail, crumpling to the ground. Her roommate, Jasmine came rushing frantically in, asking what was wrong. Violeta just held out her arm she had clutched in her left hand, continuing to sob. Jasmine exclaimed her thanks, knowing how overcome Violeta had been, and fell beside her, wrapping her arms around Violeta.

As Jasmine held her, Violeta studied the image on her arm with tears streaming down her face.

Clearly whatever they had drawn upset them, because she had never seen them draw so shakily. It was some snowy canyon or ravine, and the point of view had them looking down it at a man, his hand reaching out as he fell.

***

Violeta grew increasingly worried as the images on her arm become more and more dark and vaguely disturbing. They were going through something, and Violeta’s heart ached as she pointlessly wished to comfort them.

***

A month after the failed Hydra takeover, Violeta’s world completely went askew. She sat in a lecture hall, which had the resting temperature of below fucking freezing, taking her last final exam, when a flash of heat came across her left wrist.

Brows furrowed, she pulled back the sleeve of her jacket and gasped.

An angry scribble had appeared there, its lines thick and black and frustrated.

Violeta shoved her sleeve back down, looking around wildly to see if anyone had noticed her new soul mark. Several people around her scowled at her with annoyance written in their features.  
She hurriedly gathered her stuff, snatched up her exam, shoved it toward the confused TA, and got the hell out of there. Violeta ran all the way back to her apartment a few blocks away from campus, not caring one bit about the people she shoved out of her way.

She didn’t stop until she reached the relative safety of her home. Slamming the door behind her, sweat running down her face as she slumped against the door, she jerked her sleeve down, the mark glaring back at her.

She promptly had a panic attack.

No one had two soul marks. At least no one that was respectable. Society had just come around to letting two soul mates of the same sex get married, and even then a good portion of people wanted that illegal again. So there was no way in hell society would accept polyamorous soul mates. If homosexual relationships were considered deviant, one could only imagine was people would say about poly relationships.

God, what was her mother going to say! Violeta had just come out to her mother as bisexual, and it had taken a while for her to do that, she had been so afraid of rejection. Thank goodness her mom had accepted her, even with her strict Catholic upbringing. But asking her to accept not one, but two soul mates?

And why had it shown up? She was twenty! Even if she had a soul mate younger than her, it would have turned up when she turned eighteen, and not shown up on her soul mate until they reached of age. _So why had it shown up?_

 Violeta hands clutched purchase in her hair, the thick, dark locks spilling through through her fingers, as she rocked back and forth.

***

Hours later, she lay curled beneath several layers of blankets in the dark of her room. A single golden light streamed through her window into her room from a streetlamp outside. Violeta untangled her left arm, bringing it into the light.

If she wasn’t mistaken, underneath the bitter scrawl, was a letter. Soul marks didn’t recognize written language often, it typically had to be apart of a greater drawing, the letters intricately entwined in images, and it seemed that this was the case with her new soul mark.

Violeta stared at her wrist, wondering what word possibly could have upset her new soul mate so that started with the letter B.

***

She hid the soul mark on her left wrist. She felt positively terrible about covering it up, ashamed that it had to be a secret.

Violeta only whispered the truth to Mayre and Jasmine, their eyes going wide with shock. They both agreed the best thing to do was to cover it; Jasmine even went so far to suggest she try to forget her new soul mate. Violeta said nothing, knowing she could never do that. Especially since she didn’t want to.

***

The soul mate on her left arm wasn’t an artist like the one on her right. It was mostly doodles of stars and fruit, one time even a blimp. Or was that a zeppelin? A lot of the times, was layouts of rooms, quick drawings of blueprints. For a brief period of time she wondered if they were an architect or interior designer, but the pictures on her arm weren’t detailed or clean enough for that. There was one notable time they drew a train in some snow-covered mountains. That one was a bitch to cover up with its thick, dark lines.

The soul mate on her right arm became increasingly obsessed with drawing a pair of blank, massively menacing blue-grey eyes. Eventually they started filling the rest out, with a strong nose, wide lips, and sharp jaw. Then came the hair. It was long, and a bit stringy, and it covered this man’s face, falling around him like a curtain.

Violeta would have been jealous if it wasn’t so obvious that this man, whoever he was, was haunting her soul mate.

***

When aliens, different ones, attacked in London, then later when homicidal, sentient robots tried to annihilate the human race in Sokovia, Violeta wondered if her right arm soul mate had been in the middle of those fracases. Nah, she thought, not even they could be that unlucky.

***

Violeta had literally no clue where left arm soul mate lived, and that frustrated her to no end. Also it seemed like right arm soul mate had moved again, because she no longer had beautiful D.C. landscapes, instead being replaced with nondescript forests, and more often than not, that mysterious man.

To sum it up, she didn’t know the whereabouts of either one of her soul mates. So when her graduation from college came around, and she had saved enough money to go on a vacation before she joined the real world, she said fuck it, and booked a trip to Costa Rica, knowing it was highly unlikely she’d find either of them there. And she didn’t. But hey, she had fun.

Fortunately, when Violeta came back from Costa Rica feeling refreshed and confident, she decided to send some of her short stories she had written over the years to publishing houses, hoping they would get picked up but not really expecting it. Several contacted her back, saying they were very interested, and asked for more. She quickly acquired a literary agent, and the rest is history.

***  
Violeta was 23 with several collections of well-received published short stories and a brand-new New York Times best-selling novel under her belt. Sometimes she wrote essays for Buzzfeed, since Mayre worked in their New York office, and wasn’t ashamed to admit she had name-dropped Violeta and needed her to come through.

She was able to pay off her student loans that she thought she would be shackled with for the rest of her life. However, the best thing she was able to do with her newfound wealth was buy her mom a fucking badass, fully loaded truck, and her dream home in the Texas hill country, just outside of Austin.

Violeta got herself a new, shiny car and purchased a nice, modern condo in downtown Austin.

Although, she had visited Mayre several times in New York City, and she had to admit that that crowded jungle was calling to her, pulling her in seductively.

Sitting back on her couch after having just returned home from another trip to the Big Apple, she sipped her wine as she pulled her laptop up, googling brownstones in Brooklyn.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its a little sad, because Steve is a Professional Sad Boy. My poor baby :'(

“Tony, pay attention.” Pepper scowled at the dark haired man who had been fiddling with some tech in front of him.

His head snapped up, a smirk coming across his lips. “Yes ma’am.”

Steve only mildly rolled his eyes.

“Anyway,” Maria cut a look at Tony before continuing, “an opportunity has come up that I think we should take. Given everything that has happened, we need some positive press and this would be a good way to get some.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. Maria hadn’t really let them interact with the media since Ultron. Not that Steve was complaining. Even though he was really the only one Maria trusted to do interviews or conferences without direct oversight, he still disliked doing them. Didn’t like doing them during the war for the papers and radio, and he definitely didn’t like them now.

“Buzzfeed has reached out asking for interviews with all of you-”

Tony opened his mouth to interrupt.

“And while,” Maria cut him off by speaking louder, “it’s not considered a serious news outlet, it does report on social and political issues, and they have interviewed the President and his like.”

“But if they’re not considered serious, why do you them to interview us?” Sam asked beside him.

“I think they have heart,” Maria answered honestly.

“Eh, I’ll do it,” Tony shrugged, “I like their funny, little videos.”

“Why not?” Nat drawled, she lazily examining her fingernails.

“Sure,” Sam replied.

“Of course, Miss Hill,” Vision declined his head towards her.

Wanda gave a tentative yes, her nerves clearly showing. Steve made a mental note to talk to her, reassure her.

“Cap?” Maria asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I’ll do it.”

***

Steve spent that night looking up Buzzfeed, going through their articles. He found that he actually liked the site, with its bizarre mix of entertainment, lifestyle, and socio-political stories, and its informative, yet personable tone.

He killed the app, setting his phone on the charger, and went to turn off his bedside lamp. Before he did, he noticed a new drawing on his right arm.

It was another tree. It was simple, only an outline. It was bare, as always, with sprawling roots and many limbs. The technique overall was solid, their skill having a good foundation, and Steve knew given time and proper tutelage, they might become a more than decent artist.

Steve’s heartstrings pulled at that thought.

***

When he had woken up from the ice, his skin had been completely blank, all the marks he had had previously were gone.

He knew Bucky’s was gone, had been the moment he fell from the train. But when he went down in the ice, Peggy’s had still been there. And then it wasn’t anymore. He was vastly relieved to find out Peggy was still alive, but also dejected when he realized that so much had changed that she wasn’t his soul mate anymore.

So he spent some time in a cabin in the woods, trying to get used his reality and acclimate himself to the times, resigning himself to the fact he had no more soul marks, no more soul mates.

Its probably for the best, he thought, who’d want 93 (at the time) year old World War Two vet with the worst luck, anyway? Seriously, how would they even explain that to their friends and family? Yeah, definitely for the best.

So you could imagine his surprise when a two-dimensional eye popped up on his right arm. Part of him was joyous; soul marks were always something to celebrate, it being concrete proof that there was someone out there for you. But the other part of him was lamented on the soul mates he had lost, and he doubted whether he deserved another one.

It was all rather bittersweet.

***

For three years he watched as his soul marked changed, usually eyes or trees, occasionally just random shapes or designs. Every once in a while he would get house or building plans. He ran image searches on them, but it came up with nothing. When Steve looked at them closely, he saw they were a bit impractical, so he really doubted their legitimacy.

Tony had asked several times if Steve ever wanted to find his soul mate, but he always shook his head. Steve didn’t want to ruin their life with his impossibly hectic one.

***

When Hydra reared its head once more, coming along with it the revelation that Bucky had, in fact, never died, but suffered a much worse fate, it was no surprise that a couple of months after Hydra’s, hopefully, final death, another soul mark appeared, this time on his left arm.

It was a tangled scribble, a furious and desperate attempt to block something out. But Steve didn’t miss the B in the mess on his arm.

***

From the time he was fourteen, Steve had two soul marks. He had one on his shoulder, and one on his hip. Having two soul marks was absolutely scandalous and was most certainly a taboo subject. So when his mom had walked in on him examining the one that stayed hidden on his hip, he broke down crying, completely ashamed. His mamma consoled him, telling him that he had such a big heart that he had to have two soul mates. But she did tell him to keep the one on his hip hidden, because not everybody would feel that way.

It wasn’t until he was fifteen that he realized Bucky was his soul mate. Bucky had spilled punch all over himself, and while he changed into one of Steve’s father’s shirt, Steve had caught a glimpse of the dog he drew earlier that day on Bucky’s ribcage.

Steve didn’t say a thing, just, as casually as he could, handed Bucky the shirt. On the inside Steve was a mess. The emotional turmoil almost paralyzing.

Not only did he have two soul marks, one of his soul mates was the same sex as him, which was heavily frowned upon. Not as much as polyamory, but still.

For the longest time, Steve didn’t say shit, not even to his mom, taking extra care to not reveal the soul mark on his hip (he had figured out that one was Bucky’s when he saw him draw an apple, and lo and behold…).

So when he was 18, an orphan, sharing a shitty, small apartment with Bucky, and drunk it was inevitable that the truth come out. Bucky saw the one on his hip, recognizing it, and just said his name like a question. He got his answer when Steve looked away.

For the longest time Bucky didn’t say anything. Then suddenly, he was all over Steve, his mouth hot and wet and practically everywhere.

They both knew it was wrong, and that it couldn’t really take them anywhere positive, but they didn’t care.

***

Steve had met Agent Peggy Carter at Camp Leigh for basic training, but he didn’t know she was his other soul mark until after he received the serum and had performed in front of the unreceptive group of soldiers in Europe.

She had seen him desolate, drawing a monkey riding a unicycle, in the rain on a pair of rickety wooden steps.

When she told him that most of the 107th had been captured, he ran off, looking for news about Bucky, cutting her off what she had been about to say.

It was on the plane, after Stark’s fondue comments, that she showed him her soul mark, his dancing monkey.  
Steve was absolutely stunned. Not only did he have Bucky, who was charismatic and handsome and well-liked, but also Agent Carter, who was beautiful and smart and strong, as a soul mate. What on earth had he done to deserve them?

Before he parachuted out of the plane, she told him rather matter-of-factly to make sure he came back, and all he could do was say, “Yes, ma’am.”

***

After he had rescued Bucky from Hydra, they went on leave in London for a while. Bucky was clearly messed up from whatever hell Hydra had put him through, so Steve didn’t put any moves on him. Not that he wanted to. All he really wanted to do was hold Bucky, to let him feel safe even in his nightmares.

But eventually Bucky started to put the moves on him. So Steve let Bucky kiss him and explore his new body until he couldn’t take the guilt any longer and told him about Peggy.

“I’m sorry, Buck. I’m so sorry.” Tears fell silently on his face.

“Its okay, Stevie. Really.” Bucky’s rough hand cradled Steve’s cheek, sadness infinite in his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

Violeta sat at Mayre’s desk, playing absentmindedly with a few things there, waiting for her friend to get out of her meeting. She looked out the window, out to towards the skyline, the weather dreary and the sky grey, and a sense of ease and satisfaction fell over her. Soon, very soon, she would be able to call New York her home.

She looked up as she heard footsteps approaching her.

Mayre strode over to her, a thunderous look on her face.

“What’s wrong?” Violeta asked immediately.

Mayre looked around quickly, noting her surrounding coworkers were either wearing headphones or doing other shit.

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong,” she whispered furiously, “I pitched the idea to interview the Avengers, I reached out to them, haggled with their PR back and forth, did all the fucking legwork on it, then Dan decides he’s gonna give the interview to Samantha. Samantha!”

“No!” She exclaimed quietly in outrage.

“Yes. That fucking-”

Mayre let out a string of expletives, all very apt when describing Samantha.

Violeta was pissed. She knew how hard Mayre had been working towards securing this interview with the Avengers. It absolutely wasn’t fair of Dan to give it to Samantha, who most assuredly didn’t deserve it.

Righteous anger filled her, and when she caught a look at Dan, an idea formed.

“Just go with what I’m about to do,” she told Mayre, and shoved Mayre’s coat in her hands. Grabbing her friend, she took a route out of the office that would have them cross paths with Mayre’s boss.

“Hey Dan,” Violeta smiled at the man.

“Oh hey, Vi,” Dan grinned pleasantly back at her, his eyes gleaming as he took her in. Violeta shook off the irritation she felt at him calling her Vi, something she only let her friends and family call her.

“Mayre just told me that y’all secured the Avengers interviews. That’s so cool. Congrats!”

“Yeah, thanks.” He grinned even wider.

“Yeah. Whose idea was it anyway?” She glanced over at Jen. “Jen’s?”

“No,” he shook his head, confused, “it was Mayre’s…”

“What?” Violeta turned her head towards Mayre. “You didn’t tell me that!”

“I…didn’t think it was important…” Mayre stared at her shoes, not one for acting believably.

“Um hello? That’s so important? Whatever,” she sighed, “whose doing the interviews?”

“Sa-” Dan cleared his throat, “You know, I haven’t really decided…”

“Oh okay. Well, that would so dope to do.”

“Hella dope,” Mayre agreed.

“Well,” Dan started, “you could do them, Vi, if you wanted.”

“Me?” She asked baffled “I don’t think I can. Doesn’t need to be an employee?”

“Well, you’re on the payroll, so technically you’re an employee…”

“Oh my gosh, seriously?”

Dan nodded.

“Holy shit, this is gonna be so fucking awesome!” Violeta bounced on her feet excitedly.

“On one condition.” Dan stated.

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“You gotta go on a date with me.” He smirked.

Violeta let her gaze run over the man, slightly biting her lip in a non-seductive manner.

“Yeah, ok,” she answered, her voice vaguely husky.

“Cool then its all yours.” Dan’s smile had become decideingly predatory.

“Oh,” Violeta added an afterthought, “can Mayre work with me on it? You know, since she’s familiar with your policies and preferences and such?”

“Yeah, sure.” He waved his hand.

“Cool. This is gonna be so awesome! Well, we better get going if we’re gonna eat. Bye, Dan.”

Violeta waved at him, Mayre doing the same, trying to keep her face neutral.

“I’m looking forward to our date,” she said as she walked away, her mask firmly in place.

“You don’t actually want to go on a date with Dan, do you?” Mayre asked as they left the building to join the hustling crowd on the street.

“God no.” Violeta shuddered, one part because of the chill, one part because of the task ahead of her.

“But you don’t go on dates with people you don’t like.” Mayre stared at her.

“No, I don’t,” she agreed.

“Not even the people that try to annoy you into it or the people that scare you.”

“Nope,” she agreed again.

“So you’re only going on this date for me?”

“Yep,” she confirmed.

Mayre threw her arms around her, hugging her tight.

“See this why you wifey. I’m gonna buy you lunch.” Mayre announced.

“Well, I should think so,” Violeta laughed.

***

They had decided to conduct the interviews at Avengers Tower. Which meant they had to take a quinjet to the city in winter conditions. It wasn’t ideal, but they got there alright.

“You’re going to be interviewed by Violeta Valdez,” Maria told them as she handed the packets to go over. Steve’s was relatively thin; Tony’s was practically a manuscript.

“Violeta Valdez?” Wanda asked, her eyebrows flying up, “like the writer?”

“Yes,” Maria nodded as she handed Sam his packet.

“Oh my god,” Wanda exclaimed as she quickly reached beside her to Steve, grabbing his forearm and squeezing lightly before letting him go, “I love her! Ugh,” she slumped back in her seat, “what if I make a fool of myself?”

 

“Can’t you just use your magic to make her forget?” Tony asked, not looking up from his PR novel.

“You are right!” She sat up.

“Don’t,” Steve warned, “Don’t do that.”

“You are also right,” Wanda sighed.

“Alright, interviews start in 10. Be ready.”

They all murmured their acquiescence, and Tony even saluted her.

“Hey,” Sam nudged him, “I sent you one of those cute cat videos you like so much.”

Steve side eyed him a bit, but that didn’t stop him from checking his pockets for phone. Because Sam was right; he loved cute cat videos.

Realizing he left his phone in the common area earlier, he stood up, mumbling he’d be back.

He walked into the common area, noting that the Buzzfeed crew was already set up. He approached the marble-topped island by the kitchen, where his phone lay.

The way he had come in, no one had saw him, everyone too busy with their tasks, which was relieving.

There was a dark, curly haired girl sitting in an armchair that faced the couch. She had a packet in her lap, a pencil in hand, striking thought some things, and writing in the margins.

“I’m not asking that,” she murmured, but Steve heard her clearly.

“Why?” The woman over her shoulder, demanded.

“Because its none of my fucking business, Mayre. Nor anyone else’s.” She continued flipping through the pages. Steve smiled as Mayre grumbled about doing her job. The girl, Violeta presumably, ignored her.

“I’m definitely not asking that!” Violeta angrily scratched out something on the paper.

“Seriously?”

“Yes! You know my opinions on him! Everyone already thinks Buzzfeed is liberal trash.”

“Yeah, but if you don’t ask it, they’ll say we were too soft on him.”

“Too soft? This coming from the website that asked the Canadian Prime Minister if he had a bromance with Drake! Fuck what they say, I’m not asking it.”

“Dan will have my ass if you don’t, Vi!” Mayre shook Violeta’s shoulder.

“You let me handle Dan,” she groused as she patted Mayre’s hand.

“Oh, how’d your date go by the way?”

Steve had to admit, he could have made a clean getaway several times over, but at this point he was just eavesdropping. He found Mayre and Violeta’s interaction fascinating, not to mention funny.

“How do you think it went? I was fucking miserable the entire time. And he asked me out again! I said yes because I didn’t want him to take it out on you, but I told him it’d have to be in a couple of months because I was gonna be busy moving and shit. And that my niece’s and nephew’s birthdays were coming up and I had to be in Texas for them.”

“Their birthday isn’t for, like six months.”

“I know that, but he doesn’t.”

Mayre laughed. “Are you ever gonna tell him you don’t like him that way?”

“No. But I’m gonna pull a Kate Hudson in How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, and just become this monster until he’s like ‘I just don’t think we’re meant for each other.’”

“Or you could just say you found your soul mate.” Mayre suggested.

“And compromise my integrity? I don’t think so!”

“And leading a guy on to snag this interview didn’t do that?” She pursed her lips.

“Hey,” Violeta started fiercely, “what Dan was gonna do to you wasn’t fair. This was your baby. You came up with the idea and dealt with all the negotiations. You were the one that made this happen. Then he wanted to up and give it to Samantha! Who didn’t deserve it! He was going to take advantage of you. Again. Like he always does. They’re always taking advantage of your creativity, your ideas, your smarts, your work ethic. And while there wasn’t much you could do about because its your job, I could. And yeah, I hate being this manipulative bitch, but I was going to be damned if they took this away from you!”

Mayre didn’t say anything, just brought her hand up to her face.

“Mayre,” Violeta warned, “don’t cry; we have interviews to do.”

“Oh shut up, you bitch,” Mayre waved her hand at Violeta, her voice a bit choked up, “This is why I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Steve,” Maria hissed at him from the door behind him. Steve turned around, a blush creeping up his cheeks at him being caught.

“Get your ass in here!”

***

They did the interviews individually. Tony went first, so they could get it over with. Steve ended up going last, since he was trying to help Wanda calm her nerves.

Finally, it was his turn, and he strode into the common area, sat on the couch, and faced Violeta Valdez.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise Bucky is gonna be in this fic. I'm just establishing Steve and Violeta's relationship first.

She was pretty, Steve realized. Violeta had chocolate brown curly hair that framed her heart-shaped face. She had thick, arched brows above almond-shaped, was that hazel, eyes. She had high cheekbones, full lips, and a bit of a wide-set nose. Her facial structure combined with the way she held herself, made Steve itched with the urge to draw her. Which was odd since the only people he had ever liked to draw were his mother, Bucky, and Peggy.

Violeta stood, holding out her hand.

“Hello, Mr. Rogers,” she greeted him as he shook her hand. Steve tried not to think about how soft and warm it was.

“Miss Valdez,” he nodded, smiling slightly.

“Please, call me Violeta.” She grinned cheekily at him.

“Then call me Steve,” he responded.

“Alright then. Steve, before we start this interview, I’d just like to personally thank you. I was on Hydra’s kill list, so when you took them down, you saved my life. Not to say you haven’t before, with the Battles of New York and Sokovia, but in that instance, you directly saved it. So yeah, thank you” She tucked her hair behind her ear with her left hand, grinning wider and letting out a little laugh, all while looking down rather shyly.

Steve didn’t know what to say, his tongue feeling impossibly thick, so he just nodded.

He hadn’t thought about that. The lives he saved from the helicarriers’ weapons. Obviously, he and all his friends had been on the list, so he had thought about it in some capacity, but not really beyond that. His main focus had been making sure he saved the world from Hydra’s clutches again and Bucky.

“Ok, time for some hard hitting journalism,” her face went completely serious, Steve steeled his spine, “is your birthday really July 4th, or is that some fake internet stuff?”

Completely thrown off, laughter escaped him, and for some reason couldn’t stop. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed so hard and so freely. Violeta chuckled with him, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

Steve held his ribs as he regained his composure.

“Yes,” he gasped, “my birthday is really July 4th.”

The rest of the interview went swimmingly. 

She asked about was the best thing about the 21st century, and he answered the food, and she heartily agreed

She asked about what he missed most about the 20th century, and he didn’t reply with his family and friends, so instead he answered with the dichotomy of good and bad, right and wrong, and she nodded along when he said things were infinitely more complex and complicated nowadays than compared to when he fought in the war, as if she understood.

She asked what he like about the modern technology and the internet, and he answered the vast amount of knowledge available and cute cat videos, and she laughed, and told him about her favorite ones. 

He liked Violeta, and thought her to be charming, yet genuine.

So when she announced that was all the time she had, he found himself disappointed

“Thank you, Steve, for such a delightful interview” She shook his hand again, beaming at him.

“The pleasure was mine,” he spoke honestly as he returned her smile.

She repeated her earlier gestures, the glancing down shyly, chuckling a bit, and tucking her hair behind her ear, this time with her right arm.

He caught a flash of a tattoo that took residence on her inner forearm. No, not a tattoo. A soul mark. Of forest clearing. That he had drawn just that morning.

Shit.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massively sorry for the delay!
> 
> Just a heads up, this one's kinda angsty.
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!

“Your-” Steve choked out, pointing at her soul mark

This morning a new drawing had crept up on her arm, practically covering the expanse of it. It was a forest clearing, with fog lightly rolling through the trees and frost dusting the ground. Sunlight flickered low between the branches, casting long shadows. Not to mention the detailing of the trees was so fine, she could have spent hours admiring it. It was absolutely breathtaking, and Violeta just wished she could know where this was at.

“Oh,” she responded, “that’s my soul mark. Who ever they are, they’re incredibly talented.”

She paused.

“Is it weird if I say that I’m proud of them?” Violeta asked with a crooked grin.

Steve said nothing, just continued staring at her arm, mouth just the slightest bit agape.

Before Violeta could ask him what was wrong, Sam Wilson approached.

“Hey, sick tattoo.” He pointed at it, taking a drink from his mug. 

“Thanks. Its my soul mark, actually.”

“Hm,” Sam squinted at it, “kinda looks like the woods by Avengers HQ…”

“That’s because it is,” Wanda said as she sidled up next to him. “I go here when I want to be alone. See here,” Wanda pointed to an irregular, spider web type of mark on a tree in the middle of her arm, “I made that.”

Violeta was floored. What the actual hell?

The cogs in her mind seemed to be sluggish because it simply could not put two and two together

“What-what are you trying to say,” she sputtered out, “it’s yours?”

Wanda smiled wistfully, “I do not possess this kind of skill.”

Violeta looked to Sam.

“Nah, I can’t draw worth a shit,” he said shaking his head.

Suddenly, it was like a whisper floated through her consciousness, uttering one word on the surface of her thoughts, something she had read not too long ago: _Auburndale_ …

As Violeta turned, she was already rejecting the possibility. There was absolutely no way it was true, no way in hell.

“Steve?” His name half-caught in her throat, it said so low she barely even heard it. But Steve did, he sure in the hell did because the moment his name left her lips, he snapped out of his daze. Extreme alarm settled over his features, and there was the look of a frightened animal in his eye.

“Steve,” she asked again, taking a step forward, reaching out her hand.

“No,” he croaked, shaking his vigorously, “no.”

And as one would expect out of a frightened animal, he ran.

***

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks: Two weeks since that day at the tower, two weeks since one half of her search was over, two weeks since her _entire world was fucking thrown upside down_.

And what did she have to show for it? Trash bags full of snotty Kleenex and empty ice cream containers, a lingering odor she was sure was coming from her hair, and the total collapse of her nervous system.

He had run from her. He had fucking _run_.

And she, like a fucking jackass, just stood there, staring, gaping. By the time the thought of following him entered her thick skull, everyone was inquiring what the commotion was about. Several people called her name, all their questions behind it. Each “Violeta” latched on to her, weighing her down, suffocating her, until a hand touched her arm. She jerked away.

And with Mayre’s utterance of her name she did the only thing that came to mind. She ran.

When she had finally gathered herself, she was over twenty blocks away. Her chest heaved as she gathered her breath, and she swept her sweat soaked hair from her face. It was at that moment she realized she had nothing on her: no phone, no wallet, no keys. Cursing herself to damnation, she looked back. There in the distance, about a mile away, stood Avengers Tower, tall and imposing, casting its enormous shadow over Manhattan. Grimacing, she made her way back.

She stayed in the lobby. The was no way in hell she was gonna go back to the penthouse. So she asked the pretty receptionist if there had been any lost items found and took a seat when the woman told her to. She waited for ten minutes according to the clock on the wall, which she alternately stared at and chewed her lip as her stomach bopped and rolled.

The lobby elevator dinged and her heart practically exploded in her chest. Violeta flung her head around only to see Sam Wilson saunter out towards her. As she stood, wiping her damp hands on her legs, she couldn’t decide if she was relieved or disappointed. Now looking at it, both.

“Hi,” she said shakily.

“Hey.” Sam gave her a reassuring smile, which under normal circumstances she would have found reassuring, but under this particular one, she did not. If anything it made her want to throw up even more.

“Found these after your crew left. I imagine you want to call your Mayre. She’s only called a thousand times.” He smiled again as he handed over her items. She checked her phone, she sure enough saw that Mayre had called almost that many times.

“Thank you,” she nodded.

“No problem.” He shoved his hands into his pockets.

They stood there awkwardly for a few moments before Violeta shifted towards the exit.

“I should probably get going…” she trailed as she motioned to the door.

“Yeah. Have a good day.”

“Thanks. You too.” She turned, forcing herself to walk at a moderate pace out of there. But unfortunately it gave her time to think, and overthink, to overthink overthinking, and by the time she had nearly driven herself insane, she couldn’t help herself.

“Sam,” she called out as she swung back around, a little surprised at: one, herself, and two that Sam wasn’t by the elevator, and in fact hadn’t moved an inch.

“Yeah,” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“Um-I,” she froze. What the fuck was she even doing???

But something rose up and took hold of her. It was that steel in her spine that she had earned the hard way that wouldn’t let her just walk away, that wouldn’t let her back down. So she shoved a hand in her wallet, pulling out a little piece of paper. Striding back to Sam, she held out her card.

“Here’s my card. Could you give to-uh,” she cleared her throat, “him? Please?”

He took her card, not even bothering to glance at it, locking his eyes with hers.

A flush rose up her neck as Sam Wilson took measure of her.

Finally, “Sure thing.”

He smiled at her again.

And now it was two weeks later and she hadn’t heard shit from anyone. Well, that wasn’t necessarily true. Violeta had heard a lot of shit from Mayre. It ranged from break Steve’s fucking door down to pull herself together. And while Violeta was pretty sure the doors in Avengers Tower were reinforced and unlikely to be broken down by her, she was right about the other thing. Violeta did need to pull herself together.

She had never let a boy affect her this way, a while this wasn’t just any boy, this was her soul mate for fuck’s sake, she decided she wasn’t doing it any longer. Having pity party alone in her house for two weeks wasn’t gonna change the fact that Steve didn’t want her. She needed to move on, to live her life. _And not like this_ , she looked around in disgust at her house.

It was just after seven in the morning, and Leia was coming over at three, giving her plenty of time to go on a cleaning spree and hit the gym to box her broken little heart out. The time for moping was over. It was time for Violeta to get her groove back. And as the sunlight started to stream through her windows she thought, _Steve Rogers, who_?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse so please accept my apology in the form of two consecutive chapters

Steve had been standing on a bustling sidewalk in Brooklyn, staring at the door of the brownstone across the street for longer than he cared to admit, the bitter cold biting at him. He glanced around the neighborhood, mere blocks away from where he grew up, and he hardly recognized it. He kept wondering if it was a coincidence that she lived here.

A door slammed behind him to his right. The man that left the building gave him a side-eyed glare before he drew up the collar of his heavy winter coat to protect him from brutal wind, and walked away going about his business. No doubt Violeta’s neighbors were suspicious of him; he had been standing in the same spot for hours every day this week. It had been three weeks since The Interview, and last week he finally decided to stop being a goddamn coward and at least apologize to her in person. She at least deserved that.

Except when the cab dropped him off, he just stood there in the slush, not able to take a single step forward. Couldn’t bring himself too.

So every day, he would leave the tower for several hours, with nothing to show for, and everyday his guilt increased.

But not today. Steve couldn’t bear it anymore. Besides his urge, his longing to see her was too great.

He stepped off the curb, dodged the cars driving along the street, watching out for patches of ice, and before he knew it he had climbed her porch steps and was at her front door. Willing his heart rate to slow down its erratic beating, he took a deep breath, and rung the doorbell.

He waited briefly, and his heart seized in his chest when the door began to open, to only have it drop when it wasn’t Violeta who answered it.

The woman was tall, probably around 5’10”, with short auburn hair, deep brown eyes, and a very strong jaw.

“That was quick…I guess you’re not the pizza guy, are you?” Her heavy-lidded eyes took notice of his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“Uh no. I’m not.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, if you’re not here to deliver pizza, then may I ask what you’re doing here?” Her tone was pointedly polite, with a slender brow quirked.

“Oh! Yeah,” Steve felt a blush creep up his neck, “I-”

He was interrupted by a voice yelling out from somewhere inside the apartment. “Is that the pizza guy?”

“No,” the woman in front of him called over her shoulder, “its some swol dude. You know anyone built like a fucking mountain?”

The blush crept further up.

“Built like a mountain…” the voice was a lot closer, like it was coming from behind the door, “No, I don’t think so…”

Violeta’s head appeared around the woman to look outside at him. The look that came across her face would have been comical if the situation hadn’t been so damn serious. Her popped open wide and her fell open to form a perfect ‘o.’

“Oh,” was all she said.

“You know him?” The woman asked.

“Yes,” Violeta breathed out. When Violeta didn’t elaborate, the woman’s brows raised.

“Ok…” the woman drew out the word, her confusion and suspicion evident, “I’m gonna get back to work…”

She walked away slowly, the whole time glancing over her shoulder at the two of them, her eyes narrowed, until she disappeared from sight.

Steve looked back at Violeta, who was looking at the ground. She was wearing an oversized faded University of Texas sweatshirt, some tight black pants (he thinks they’re called yoga pants), with her curly locks bound up messily atop her head. Steve’s heart stuttered at just the sight of her.

“Hey,” he finally said.

“Hey,” she replied. Violeta shivered, whether from the outside cold or from something else, Steve didn’t know, but nonetheless she drew her sweater closer to her.

“So, I-um,” he cleared his throat, trying to dislodge the massive lump that suddenly had formed there, “I just, uh, want to-”

“I’m sorry,” she cut him off, raising her hand to stop him. He felt a heaviness in his heart. Steve knew there was a possibility she wouldn’t want to see him, to hear him out after the way he had acted. And he wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t want anything to do with him, in fact he kinda thought he deserved it.

“I don’t want to interrupt you, but its too damn cold outside to be having a conversation on my door step. Come in.” Violeta waved him in as she took a step back.

“Oh,” Steve exclaimed, suddenly very relieved, “right, of course.” He hastily took a step inside and maneuvered himself around so that Violeta could shut the door. Which she did with a firm, almost vicious snap.

When she turned back around to face him, she sighed. “I know it was my idea to move here, but damn I _hate_ the cold.” Violeta gave him a rueful smile, and he returned it with a sheepish one of his own.

“So,” she tucked a loose tendril behind her ear, “what can I do for you?”

Before he could even open his mouth, a voice from behind them called out.

“I feel like such a dumbass.” Steve turned his head as he and Violeta looked at the woman who had answered the door earlier. She stood in the doorway of what he assumed was the living room, a laptop and a huge file case clasped in her arms.

“What?” Violeta sounded just as confused at the woman’s statement as Steve was.

“I didn’t realize who _he_ ,” her voice dropped to a whisper at the mention of Steve as she jerked her head towards him, “was, until like two seconds ago. So…I’m just gonna go…” She walked towards them, her reaching behind Violeta for the doorknob. Violeta scrambled to get out of the way after the woman’s words presumably sank in.

“Leia, I-”

“I’ll be by tomorrow, ok?” The woman, Leia, gave Violeta a pointed look before she opened the door, letting the bitter chill in once more, and exited through it, shutting it behind her.

“Well,” Violeta said after a few seconds, “I guess we can go into the living room now…” Her sentence trailed as she hesitantly took a step forward.

Steve murmured a small, “Sure.”

Their footfalls on the wooden floors sounded impossibly loud to his ears as they walked through the entry hall into her living room. The first thing Steve noticed when he walked into the room were the floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookcases flanking the carved stone fireplace and flat-screen above it. The shelves were lined, practically crammed, with books of all different sizes and spine colors, all clearly worn, some more than others. And yet it wasn’t intimidating or pretentious. In fact, the room, with its light mint walls and crown molding, its cream-colored matching chairs and small sectional, and its potted ivy and succulent plants by the window, was downright homey.

If the situation at hand hadn’t been so desperately awkward, Steve would have felt very comfortable in the room.

Violeta cleared her throat. “Do you want anything to drink? Water? Milk? Tea?” She turned away slightly. “Hard liquor,” she mumbled under her breath.

“No, thank you,” Steve replied politely. “Besides,” he added, “alcohol doesn’t work on me.” Despite everything that happened, he couldn’t help teasing her a bit, somewhat falling back into that easy rapport they had before he went and fucked everything up.

Violeta must have felt it too since the corner of her mouth ticked up. “Yeah well, it does work on me and I got a bottle of real good tequila in my kitchen.” She gazed almost longingly toward the direction he presumed the kitchen was in. “But,” she sighed heavily, “I don’t think this is the time for that.” She gestured towards the couch.

He took a seat, running his palms along his jeans nervously as she sat beside him, although not too close. She had put a bit of distance between, and Steve found that he absolutely hated it. He shook himself of the feeling as Violeta gazed at him expectantly.

“I, um,” he cleared his throat before he trudged through, “Just wanted to apologize for everything. I-” _Damn, why was this so hard_? He had literally been through war. Several times over, one could argue. “I’m not the type to run away,” he saw Violeta’s eyebrows raise on that one, “Never have been. And when I did with you, I’ll admit I was ashamed of myself. That’s why it took me so long to get here. I really am sorry. When I saw your soulmark, I just panicked and-” Steve throat suddenly closed up as he thought about that moment and about what he was about to do.

“Hey,” Violeta said softly, her warm hand coming over his, “I’ll be honest, what you did didn’t exactly make me feel great,” Steve cringed at her words, “but I’m glad you finally turned up. Because now we can talk.” Her eyes turned very serious.

“About what?” Steve felt like he had wool between his ears since Violeta was still holding his hand and seemed to unconsciously run her thumb across the back of his hand.

“Come on, Steve,” she murmured disbelievingly as she scooted closer to him, “About us.”

Steve felt a painful pang in his chest at her words and suddenly felt numb. God, why’d this have to be so fucking _difficult_.

“There can’t be an ‘us’,” his words came out a hoarse whisper. Her thumb stopped.

Steve could see her jaw working as she fought for something. Words? Composure? Likely both.

“Can I ask why?” She finally said.

Now it was Steve’s turn for disbelief. “Because of who I am. What I do. I don’t want to take the chance that you’d get-” Steve let out a small gasp as he thought of Peggy, of Bucky, and of what could possibly happen to her, and he couldn’t breathe. If there was anything Steve had learned, it was that he was destined for turmoil, and as his soulmate she was destined for worse, and how could he possibly put her through that knowing how it would end?

Violeta squeezed his hand, bringing his back from his dark, swirling thoughts, and he sucked in a breath. Steve closed his eyes. “I don’t want to take the chance that you’d get hurt…or worse.”

Suddenly there was a touch at his cheek, her hand cupping his face. His eyes flew open. Violeta’s hazel eyes gazed deeply into his own, full of sorrow and understanding, and underneath that, determination.

“Do I not get a choice? Do I not get to choose if I think you are worth whatever trouble may come my way?”

“I’m not.” Steve shook his head.

“Yes well,” Violeta sat back, taking her hand away from him, leaving Steve empty, “I’ve already decided that you are, so there’s that.”

A thrill shot up his spine at her acceptance while a heaviness fell in the pit of his stomach at the seemingly casual disregard for her safety.

“Look,” Violeta began, “I get why you don’t want to pursue anything, I mean, it’s not rocket science. But the fact of the matter, Steve, is I want you,” Violeta’s expression was so open, so honest, her eyes vulnerable, and her jaw set, “In my life, however I can. It doesn’t have to be romantic. We can be just friends. But please, don’t just cut me out. I’ve finally found you, I don’t want to-” Violeta’s voice broke, “to lose you.

And it was as her bottom lip visibly trembled as she took in a shaky breath, that whatever resolve Steve had come here with, promptly fled him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> READ NOTES  
> CHAPTER WARNING

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!WARNING!!!  
>  There is some depiction of violence, nothing graphic, mostly implied, but it may be upsetting. There are mentions of dead bodies and violence against children. So please read at your discretion.  
> !!!WARNING!!!

It had been four months, Steve thought, since that first afternoon at Violeta’s house. Since that moment when Steve went against all his logic and reasoning, but not his instincts, and agreed with Violeta. Her face had lit up and Steve felt a warmth rush through body slowly, like the sun gradually peeking out from behind the clouds.

They still had a lot to talk about, and after a while they came to the decision to simply be in one another’s life, and let whatever happen, happen naturally. Steve was kinda nervous to plunge back into a relationship, especially considering the last one he was in was over 70 years ago, and neither of them had ended particularly well. Not that he told Violeta all of that. He needed to get a better feel for her first. If he even was going to tell her, that is.

After they finished that, Violeta had asked him if he wanted to watch a movie or something.

During the middle of their discussion, the pizza guy had finally arrived, bringing with him the delicious aroma of it, and Violeta had come back into the room, setting it on the coffee table in front of them, and it sat untouched until they were done talking and Violeta had asked him to stay.

“I mean, I can’t finish this by myself!” She laughed, the sound sending butterflies straight to Steve stomach.

Steve agreed, to the movie and the pizza, especially when he realized she had ordered from his favorite pizza place he had growing up when he could afford a slice. “Oh, I’m sorry I ran off your friend, by the way.”

“Oh, it fine,” she waved him off, “we were just doing my taxes.”

“So,” he began after he swallowed a bite, “is cheese your usual go-to? Cause I gotta admit, seems kinda boring for you.”

“God, no,” she rolled her eyes at his razzing, “I like everything-but-the-kitchen-sink. Except for pineapple and anchovies. However, Leia likes Hawaiian. So this is our compromise.”

“Nothing? Your compromise was nothing?” Steve raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah. Good thing, it’s a classic.” She reached for the remote, turning on the TV.

“Pepperoni is a classic,” he mumbled under his breath, grinning wide when Violeta swung her head around at him.

“You can give it back if you don’t like it,” she shoved at his shoulder.

“No, no, no,” he laughed, fielding her off.

As they were deciding what to watch, they were delighted to find out that they both loved Brooklyn Nine-Nine, and that settled that. They ended up binge watching several episodes and it was well into the evening when Steve finally left. He wasn’t sure what to do when she let him out. Just say goodbye? Shake her hand? Luckily, Violeta let him off the hook, and just hugged him. He was stiff at first, but when her warmth started to seep into his skin, he wrapped his arms around her tighter, drawing her close. Steve closed his eyes, and they simply held each other for several minutes. Violeta was the first to draw away.

“If you don’t go now, I’ll never let you go.” Her voice sounded rather hoarse.

“If I don’t go now, I won’t want you to.” Steve murmured. Violeta smiled shyly and opened the door.

Steve left, and even though the temperature had dropped since he had last been out, he decided to walk back to the tower, grinning the entire way. He strode through the boroughs, sure his eyes matched the twinkling lights, for when was the last time he felt so light? So unburdened?

Everyone took notice of his changed demeanor. Some had no clue where this change had come from. Others (i.e. Tony) assumed he had ‘gotten laid’ (his words). But it was simply Violeta.

Over the past four months, they had stayed in constant contact, whether through text or phone calls, even the occasional FaceTime call. Just last night, Violeta had texted him to draw her something nice and cute since she was ‘gonna deal with some real assholes’ (her words) today. Which was why he was at the pond near the base, at the break of day in the chilly spring morning, sketching a duck and its ducklings.

Steve paused for a moment to sip on his coffee from his thermos, taking note of what was on his left arm. It had been a while since Bucky had drawn anything, and Steve had to wonder if he was being deliberate about that. Bucky had made it clear he didn’t want to be found, so it wasn’t too improbable to think that Bucky hardly drew so that Steve wouldn’t use that as a way to try to find him. Which was fair, he guessed, but was also incredibly frustrating since Steve couldn’t knew for sure if Bucky was still alive out there. However, every now and then Bucky would doodle something, and Steve hoped it was because he was letting Steve know he was alright, but it was probably because he was bored.

Steve sighed and continued on with his drawing. It was mid-morning when he finished, and as he made it back his room to shower, he received a text.

_Violeta: Very nice and very cute :) Thank you._

_Violeta: Now every time I want to punch someone in the face, I’ll just look at my arm. You’re saving me from a lot of legal troubles_

Steve texted back, smiling.

_Glad I could be of service…_

The response was almost immediate.

_Violeta: Yeah, me too. I totally owe you. Dealer’s choice ;)_

Steve frowned slightly. Had she meant to put the winking face? He knew that when someone texted that, that it could be incredibly suggestive, so it that what was happening here? Steve didn’t want to be wrong, which he most likely was, so he replied as innocently as possible.

_Alright. I’m sure I can come up with something_

Steve set his phone down on the counter, and turned on the water. He was pleased that she had like his picture, and it gave him a warm feeling. But under that, lay a hope that a certain someone had liked it too.

***

It wasn’t unusual for Steve to leave the base for Violeta’s. In fact, when he wasn’t training or on a mission, that’s where he was. However, he didn’t usually go to her place after a mission. After a mission, they were typically busy with the much need rest and with debriefings. Plus, Steve didn’t want to go over there with that particular mindset, so he waited until after things died and he was in a better head space.

That wasn’t the case for this night. It was around midnight, and he stood on Violeta’s doorstep. He had rang the doorbell a couple of times, rather numbly, barely noticing that it was taking her a bit to answer.

He wasn’t entirely sure how he had got here. Steve vaguely remembered stumbling back onto the quinjet after the unspeakable things that had just transpired, and hoarsely told Tony to fly him back to the tower, despite the others’ protest. After that everything was a blur and now he was here, and he didn’t know why because he had made a vow to himself to never let her see him like this. Before he began to think too deeply on that thought, the door swung open.

“Jesus Christ, Steve. Do you know what time it is?” Violeta had answered the door in a robe.

“You’re always up at this time,” Steve muttered, as he crossed the threshold.

“Yeah, but you’ve never been over this late.” She shut the door with a sound click and Steve flinched.

“You scared me! Who rings someone doorbell at midnight?”

The fabric of her robe was clinging to her in places, Steve noticed. And that the area around her collarbones were damp. A light, lavender fragrance radiated from her skin. Her hair was tied up, but it appeared as if some of the tendrils had been dipped in water.

“-not to mention that-are you alright?” Steve woodenly realized that Violeta had been speaking to him.

“Were you in the bath?” Steve asked slowly.

“Yes,” Violeta answered carefully, “Steve, honey, are you alright?” She grabbed his arm.

At her touch, he fell apart.

“No,” he choked out a sob.

“Oh, darling,” she said and embraced him. Steve leaned into her arms, not even knowing if she could support him, and let the tears he had been holding back fall.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been there, literally crying on her shoulder, but it must have been a while because he was stiff when he finally straightened up. Apparently, Violeta was too because she rubbed her neck.

“Sorry,” he said as he brushed the huge wet spot on her shoulder.

“For what?” She must have dug into a knot, since she grimaced as she asked.

“For showing up in the middle of the night and crying all over you.” Steve frowned heavily.

“Don’t worry about it,” she waved him off, “Come on.” Violeta grabbed his hand and tugged.

“Where are we going?” He asked as she led him through the entry hall into the parlor.

“Upstairs.” She replied simply, leading him up the wooden staircase.

“For what?” Steve pressed. Violeta didn’t respond as she took him to the second floor, and through the door to the master suite.

“Vi…” Steve asked again, more hesitant.

“Don’t worry, Steve,” she told him over her shoulder as they completely bypassed her bed.

“I just figured,” she said as she entered the bathroom, “that you needed to relax a little. Besides, I was only in the tub for like five minutes before you came.”

Violeta stepped closer to him, almost flush with his body and looked up at him.

“Is this ok?” she murmured.

“I-” Steve fumbled for the right words.

“We’re just gonna relax. That’s it.” Violeta told him, and relief spread through Steve. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested in Violeta like that, it was just that he no where near wanted that at the moment.

He nodded jerkily.

Violeta stepped back, and turned to the tub. She must have let the plug out when he rang because the tub was empty. She turned on the water, asking his preferred temperature, to which he shrugged. He could handle pretty much anything as long as it wasn’t boiling. Running her hand under the faucet, she found her desired warmth, and stopped the drain. Then she reached for a bottle on the counter, and when he nodded to her unvoiced question, she poured it in the bath. It must have been what she used earlier because that light lavender scent filled the room. After the tub was about halfway full, Violeta turned the water off.

“Are you or do you want me to?” She asked, gesturing to his clothes.

Steve glanced down, somewhat surprised to find him in civilian clothes, although he supposed it was possible for him to have changed on the quinjet. The Dalai Lama could have been on the plane, making out with Sam right in front of his face, and Steve probably wouldn’t have noticed.

“I got it,” he croaked out. He began to undress, somehow not feeling the least bit self-conscious, while Violeta watched her hand as it glided through the steaming water.

After he had finished, Violeta asked, “Where do you want to be?”

Steve tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“The front or the back?” Steve went from confusion to confliction. Sensing his hesitation, Violeta looked up at him.

“It’s ok if you want to be in the front. Sometimes you just need to be held,” she said simply, her tone neutral and face carefully blank, so to let him come to his own decision.

“I-” Steve cleared his throat, mind made up, “the front. If you don’t mind…” he trailed off.

Violeta smiled. “Of course, I don’t mind.” She untied her sash and slipped off her robe, hanging it a hook on the wall. Hissing slightly as she stepped in, she held out her hand for him. Taking it, they both carefully lowered themselves in the water, the heat stinging little pinpricks over his skin, reddening his flesh. A few adjustments were made before they settled in, Steve leaning back on her. He could feel her breasts pressed up against his back, but there was nothing sexual to the feeling. In fact, he could feel the entire front of body against his, every inch of it touching his, and there was nothing but weariness and the relief of comfort.

Violeta ran a hand through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp, while the other one ran along his ribs, slowly tracing their outline. Steve closed his eyes, relaxing more deeply than he had in years.

They sat like that for a while before Violeta murmured, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” he responded lowly.

“Do you have someone you can talk to about it?”

Steve didn’t answer. Sure, he did. He could talk to the rest of the team, but considering he saw the worst of it, he wasn’t going to do that.

“Steve,” she whispered against his skin, pressing a chaste kiss to his shoulder, “if you don’t want to talk to me that’s fine. But if you don’t want to because you don’t want to unload on me or because you don’t think I can’t handle it, trust me when I say that I’m stronger than I look.”

Steve thought on that for a bit. Those were the exact reasons why he didn’t want to tell her. But before he had shown up at her door, he hadn’t wanted her to see him when he came back from a mission, shattered from the things he had seen, and yet it was her that had held him together. He needed to give her more credit.

“You’re right, of course,” he grabbed her hand, and squeezed tight. “There was this warlord who had gotten ahold of some chemical weapons, so we already knew it was gonna be nasty. But we never could have imagined-” Steve voice broke as images of mangled corpses and the echoes of their screams flashed through his mind. Violeta wrapped her arms around him.

“First were the piles of bodies outside the walls. The stench was…” he stopped swallowing back the bile that rose in his throat, shaking his head. “The worst,” his voice becoming painfully rough, “was the human shield of children he surrounded himself with.”

Violeta squeezed him unbearably tight, tension rolling throughout her entire body.

“We did everything we could to save them,” Steve continued, “but the leader and his cronies used that against us. They bargained with us for their lives, and whenever things weren’t going their way they-” Steve stopped because he could not go on.

“Oh god,” Violeta gasped, horrified. Steve felt her hot tears fall on his skin as she held him even closer.

There were no more words, and they stayed in the tub until the water turned cold and their skin pruned up. Then they got out, Violeta letting the drain, and dried off. After they were down, she lead him into her room, guiding him to sit on the bed. She went off to her closet and came back with a pair of soccer shorts. As he slipped them on, she threw on a big t-shirt and underwear. Climbing into bed and under the covers, she reached for him again, and held him all night as he tried to erase the visions in his mind.


End file.
